


we're looking for something dumb to do

by hatrickane (dandelionwhiskey)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Proposal Fusion, Emotional Constipation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, They Play Hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/hatrickane
Summary: For the Reel_1988 fest, based on the film The Proposal.Jonny runs a successful publishing company in Chicago. When he finds out his visa is expiring and he'll have to return to Canada, he turns to his long-suffering assistant to give him a hand. The plan: convince everyone they're in love, get married, and Jonny will get to stay in the country.Seems simple enough.





	we're looking for something dumb to do

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks: Huge thanks to [allthebros](http://allthebros.tumblr.com) for creating and maintaining this super fun challenge!  
> THE BIGGEST EVER THANK YOU to [eberbae](http://eberbae.tumblr.com/) for being a cheerleader, beta, and even straight up writing some scenes that I couldn't wrap my head around.  
> Unbelievable thanks to [kaneoodle](http://kaneoodle.tumblr.com) for her last-minute beta-ing. 
> 
> Work notes: This is inspired by the film The Proposal. It served as a great jumping-off point for the story I wanted to write, but I made an effort not to parrot the movie too explicitly throughout. Hopefully the spirit of the original is here, along with my own take on the fake-marriage trope. Please enjoy!

Jonny takes a deep breath as he fits his hand into Patrick’s. “You ready?”

Patrick gives him a short nod, a small smile. “I was born ready.”

They push the doors to the office open together, walking in hand-in-hand and heads held high. Patrick’s hand is slightly sweaty from nerves, but Jonny just squeezes it tighter and tugs him more quickly through the cubicles. He’s acutely aware that people are staring at them, so he swallows his anxiety and stops abruptly in front of his office door. Patrick bumps ungracefully into his back.

“Attention, everyone,” Jonny says, eyeing Patrick as he attempts to regain his balance. “We have an announcement.”

Vinnie, a salesman, hangs up his phone in the middle of a client call. Patrick is practically vibrating with excitement, his shoulder warm and solid where it presses up against Jonny’s. They’d planned this meticulously, knowing that people might have a difficult time accepting it.

“We’re getting married!” Patrick blurts out, lifting their joined hands between them and beaming at Jonny. It’s not exactly how they planned it, but it’ll do. Jonny waits a beat for the applause and surprised congratulations.

“What,” Vinnie says flatly. “You guys hate each other.”

Jonny frowns. “We obviously don’t hate each other,” he says. “Why would I marry someone I hated?”

They’re met with silence from the other employees, who all exchange knowing glances. Jonny clenches his fists so hard that he accidentally crushes Patrick’s hand.

“Ow,” Pat hisses, cradling his hand to himself. “Anyway,” he says through his grimace, “what Jonny said. We’re in love. Surprise!” He does jazz-hands.

Jonny forces himself to look fond.

“I guess it makes sense,” Hartman muses from a few cubes back. “You fight all the time, there’s gotta be some sexual tension.”

“Oh, God,” Jonny mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mazel-tov,” says Keith says.

Patrick waves off the smattering of applause and ushers Jonny into his office, kicking the door shut behind him. He gives Jonny a shrug and a hapless smile. “What’d I tell you?” he said. “This is gonna be a cinch.”

~/~

**YESTERDAY**

Jonny paces his office, pausing periodically to glare at his laptop where the offending email sits open on his desktop. He’s been a successful publisher in the states for years, and now they’re trying to deport him back to Canada. The very thought of it makes him clench his teeth. After all he’s sacrificed for this dumb country, it’s rejecting him.

As if on cue, his door slams open and his Patrick stumbles through with two stacked cups from Starbucks. He has a planner tucked under one arm and a pencil behind his ear. Jonny peers at him. He’s six minutes late.

“Here ya go, boss,” Patrick says as he passes Jonny’s green tea over to him. “Sorry about the timing. Some dude in front of me just had to talk to a manager because his no-whip latte was made with nonfat milk.”

“I don’t care,” Jonny says, waving Patrick off. “Go away.”

“Roger that,” says Patrick, turning on his heel to walk out. He seems breathless, like he ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. That gives Jonny a little twist of satisfaction.

Jonny is taking a long sip of his tea when the scribbling on the side of the cup catches his eye. “Patrick,” he says before his assistant can leave, “this is yours.” He thrusts the tea out toward him.

“Oh,” Patrick says, double-checkings the name written on the cup he’s holding, and flushinges. “Yeah, okay, sorry.”

He exchanges the cups sheepishly and hurriedly tries to leave again.

Jonny clears his throat. “You drink green tea too, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Patrick. He takes a sip from his own cup and makes a face. “Yum.”

Jonny stares at him. “Do you get two of the same order in case they screw mine up?”

“Well,” Patrick starts, defensively, “you’re not exactly a joy to be around when they get your order wrong. Uh, sir.”

The glare that Jonny sends his way somehow manages to make Patrick to scurry out of his office. He closes the door with a soft _click_ and Jonny swipes a hand down his face. He only has a few hours to figure out a solution to this whole deportation mess. If anyone can do it, he can.

But, as it turns out, he can’t.

He’s scrolling through this options and none of them are working. He can’t get married because he hasn’t dated anyone in almost two years and he’s not sure he even knows any single women. He can’t apply for a new work visa, because by the time it goes through, his job will have gone to fucking Rozsival.

In short, he’s screwed.

He finishes the dredges of his green tea and sets the empty cup down on his desk. He doesn’t know much about Patrick, which is probably indicative of how dedicated an assistant he is. Jonny barely has to monitor his schedule throughout the day, because Patrick is always a step ahead of him.

Sure, he’s a little disheveled. Late sometimes. There was that one day when he forgot to shave in the morning and he had stubble all around his chin and jaw and Jonny was distracted by whenever they spoke. He’s never too scared to sass Jonny, which can be a problem.

The most important thing, Jonny muses, is that he changed his regular coffee order to avoid a hypothetical situation that might irritate Jonny. Jonny thinks that maybe, that means he could ask Patrick to do anything he wanted.

Pretty much anything.

Jonny swallows. His meeting is in five minutes, and he’s got to bring Patrick with him.

He stands up, gently brushes his suit until it’s free of wrinkles, and makes his way to Patrick’s office. When he pushes the door open, it’s abruptly halted by a box, forcing him to squeeze through a crack. Patrick’s office is a disaster; it’s filled with file boxes, Jonny’s old suits, an ironing board.

“Jesus,” Jonny says, kicking at one of the boxes. “Maybe it’s time you clean up in here, eh?”

Patrick looks up from his laptop and gives Jonny an incredulous look. “This is all _your_ stuff, Mr. Toews. I store it in here so your office looks good for clients.” His expression clearly displays a touch of disdain.

“Oh,” says Jonny, “well. Good. Also, you should call me Jonny. For this next meeting, anyway.”

Patrick closes his laptop. “You want me to come with you to the meeting?”

Jonny shifts his weight. “Ah, I insist actually,” he says, scratching the back of his head. Patrick shrugs, packs up his laptop, and gestures for Jonny to lead the way.

As the meeting starts, Jonny can tell that Patrick has no fucking idea what’s going on. There’s a lot of technical vernacular being thrown around, probably faster than Patrick can discreetly Google it. It isn’t until the word ‘deportation’ is said that Patrick finally perks up.

“I’m sorry-”

“Yes,” Jonny interrupts, “about that. It won’t be necessary.” He reaches over and curls his fingers around Patrick’s, squeezing once, tightly. “We’re getting married.”

Patrick’s hand instantly goes clammy. “Uh,” he starts. Jonny shoots him a sharp glare.

“No need to be shy, Patrick,” he interrupts. “I know we said we’d keep it quiet, but it’s important that they know.”

“O-oh,” says Patrick, turning his hand against Jonny’s. “Um, yep. That’s us.” He waves their clasped hands. “Engaged.”

The board members stare at them. “Is this a joke?” One of them asks.

“How _dare_ you,” Patrick starts in, and Jonny has to admit he’s a little impressed that Patrick thinks so quickly on his feet. The board member looks suitably embarrassed. “We had sex in the closet just last week.”

Jonny chokes on nothing, dissolving into a coughing fit. Patrick thumps him lightly on the back. “I, um.”

“Don’t be _shy_ , sweetie,” Patrick parrots as his digs his thumb into Jonny’s shoulder.

The meeting is a little rocky after that, but they manage to walk out of it with pieces of their dignity intact. Jonny crowds Patrick back into his office and tries not to trip over the box at the front door. “What the hell was that?” He snaps, and Patrick whirls around on him.

“Are you fucking serious? We’re engaged, now?” He shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s that all about, man?”

Jonny throws his hands up. “They’re going to kick me out of the country and give my job to _Rozsival_ ,” he growls. “You’ll be out of a job, too.”

Patrick gapes at him, then drops his gaze. “I could be Michal’s assistant,” he says defiantly. Jonny rolls his eyes.

“He’ll put this company out of business,” Jonny sniffs. Patrick has to know, on some level, that Jonny’s right. Patrick’s only chance at staying in this job, at this level, is to go along with Jonny’s plan.

Patrick slumps down in his office chair and is quiet for a long moment. “Fine,” he finally says, softly. “Fine, okay.”

Relief floods Jonny’s system. “Thank you, Patrick-”

“I want a raise,” Patrick says, eyes darting up to meet Jonny’s. “And I want a publishing deal.”

All the reassurance Jonny had just felt immediately evaporates from his body. “A publishing deal?” Jonny asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “I want my book published.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever,” he agrees, waving his hand in front of them. “Anything else, your majesty?”

Patrick shrugs. “You have to propose to me.”

“What?”

“You have to propose,” Patrick says again, “nicely. I’m not marrying someone who doesn’t even bother to ask first.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jonny mumbles. He wonders if he could dump Patrick and maybe talk Hartman into doing this instead. But Patrick is smirking at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Jonny has no doubt that he’s going to be able to handle the whole lying part of this scheme.

“I never kid,” Patrick says solemnly. He has a stack of Star Wars Lego blocks on his desk. Jonny heaves a weary sigh and starts to fall to one knee, but Patrick holds his hands up in protest. “Whoa, whoa. Not right now, that’s not romantic.”

Jonny grits his teeth as he stands again. “I hate you,” he says, with just a hint of venom, and Patrick spreads his hands in front of him.

“I’m your only hope,” Patrick says with a smile. “Feels pretty good.”

Jonny exits his office as quickly as he can, just to get away from that cocky grin before he socks Patrick right in the jaw.

~/~

It takes Jonny three hours to figure out how to propose. His visa is up at the end of the week, and he has a meeting with the immigration officers tomorrow, so he doesn’t exactly have a lot of time to plan anything spectacular.

But guilt is a strong motivator. He knows he’s doing Patrick a favour by staying here so Patrick can follow a pipe dream, but Jonny can at least think up something half decent for a proposal. It’ll need to be believable, for one, but he also imagines their wedding will be very quick and basic, so this is the most extravagant thing he’ll have to do.

He considers a few Chicago hotspots - The Bean, the Art Institute, the ice rink in Millennium Park - but he doesn’t want to do something so mortifying in such a public space. He doesn’t want to do it outside their office’s building, either, because that’s just classless.

He finally settles on a fountain that he goes to sit at to eat lunch, sometimes. It’s a serene place; people do yoga nearby in the spring and summer. When he texts Patrick the when and where, Patrick just sends a bunch of winking emojis and one ring emoji.

Maybe Jonny should have proposed outside of a McDonald’s, just out of spite.

Next is the ring. He doesn’t know Patrick’s ring size exactly, but he thinks he can just guess. They don’t need anything special.

He picks the closest above-average looking jewelryjewellery store and walks directly to the man by the wedding bands.

“I need two rings, for today,” Jonny says in way of a greeting. “Both males.”

The man looks unfazed, which Jonny appreciates. “Any bands below catch your eye?”

Many, in fact, do. But that’s because these rings are decorated with so many diamonds that Jonny shakes his head. Foregoing half of the collection, he searches for two matching bands that don’t hurt his eyes.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find two titanium bands beside one another; one is rimmed in black and one has black in the middle. They’re complementary in a tasteful way, and Jonny’s happy to see that they’re well within his means.

When he points them out to the associate, he smiles and tells Jonny that he’s made a good choice. Jonny figures he’d say that for anything he would have picked, but he has to admit that the bands are quite nice.

The one rimmed with black looks better on his finger than the other, so he keeps that one for himself. He ensures that there’s a return policy on them and buys a moderate size for the other ring.

Place, check. Ring, check. Now he just needs to propose.

He gets to the spot with plenty of time to spare, so he makes some phone calls. He’s already taken too much time out of his week with this whole proposal mess.

He’s in the middle of telling one of his most reliable clients that they can’t back out on _Ellen,_ god dammit, when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

It’s Patrick, looking all sorts of smiley and smug, hands on his hips. Jonny thinks that maybe he combed his hair.

Jonny holds up a finger to say “one more minute”, but that just makes Patrick frown. So Jonny rolls his eyes and closes the call with “you’re going to be on _Ellen._ End of story. Goodbye.”

“That was a very important call, you know,” Jonny lectures.

Patrick rolls his eyes, hands still on his hips. “More important than proposing to your most _wonderful_ boyfriend?”

Jonny saves his retort and instead reaches in his pocket for the ring box. He’s surprised to see that Patrick’s face softens –, looks grateful, even. Jonny extends his arm to offer Patrick the box and says, flatly and quickly, “Patrick, will you marry me.”

Patrick opens the box while it’s still in Jonny’s hand, muses over it for a moment, then closes the box again.

“No.”

“ _No?!"_

Patrick grins. “No. Ask me nicely.”

Jonny does not have time for this. He really doesn’t. He’s got to get back to the office, back to the real world. But Patrick looks like he could stand there all day, the stubborn fucker.

“Fine,” Jonny concedes. “Patrick, will -”

“Uh-uh,” Patrick interrupts, then points to the ground. Oh, he can’t be serious.

Jonny lets out a long, deep breath as he lowers himself to one knee. This ground is _filthy._

“Patrick, darling,” Jonny says sweetly, opening the box like they’re in some goddamn movie. Patrick looks absolutely smug. “Will you please, pretty please, marry me?”

Patrick hums, and just before Jonny thinks he’s going to strangle him instead, chirps, “all right!”

Jonny sighs in relief, then slides the ring on Patrick’s finger. That wasn’t too bad.

~/~

**TODAY**

The immigration meeting goes…  _okay_.

Jonny has his head in his hands, elbows resting on his desk, tapping his foot erratically. Patrick sits patiently on the other side of the room, probably smirking. Jonny kind of wants to kill him.

“You know my grandmother’s maiden name,” Jonny says flatly, voice muffled by the palms of his hands. “You know my first car’s license plate number. You know the last show I binged on Netflix. Why do you know so much about me?”

Patrick scoffs. “I run your life, Toews. It’s my job to know all those things.” Jonny peers at him through his fingers and notices he’s not smirking so much as grimacing, a flush dusted across his cheeks. “But you barely knew my last name,” Patrick points out. “This is a shitty idea.”

Jonny sits up and tries to give Patrick an imploring look. “I don’t exactly have time to learn every employee’s life story when I’m trying to run this company, Patrick,” he says with a sigh. This seems to make Patrick even more grumpy.

“Fine,” said Pat. “I need that book deal, so I’ll play along for awhile. You’re going to have to learn something about me, though.”

Jonny spread his hands. “Okay, tell me something.”

“Nope,” Patrick says. His grin is back as he shakes his head at Jonny’s suggestion. “You’re going to have to do the real thing.”

Jonny regards him skeptically. “What’s ‘the real thing,’ Patrick?” He asks slowly. He has no interest in getting involved in something humiliating, time-consuming, or ultimately pointless.

“Move in with me,” says Patrick. “Meet my friends. And then at our follow-up meeting next week, you might seem a little more believable.”

Jonny stares at him. “I’m not moving in with you.” Jonny _likes_ his own condo, it’s sizeable and has an amazing view of Chicago. He definitely doesn’t pay Patrick enough to have anything remotely like that. Patrick looks thoroughly unimpressed at Jonny’s denial.

“I thought this was a ‘by any means necessary’ sort of situation, Jonathan,” he drawls as he picks at one of his fingernails. Jonny wrinkles his nose. “Come on. I have a guest room, and we’ll only drive each other crazy for a couple of days, and you’ll get your sham wedding to be believable.”

The guy has a point. Jonny groans and puts his head back into his hands. “I’ll call the movers,” he tells the desk.

~/~

Jonny spends the rest of the afternoon decidedly not thinking enough about work. He can’t help but be mildly distracted, what with his life hanging in the balance and the entire situation resting on the shoulders of his fucking assistant. Patrick flirts incessantly with him in the kitchen, now that they’ve told the office, and it seems like he’s determined to humiliate Jonny at every corner.

“Can you get me some creamer from the fridge, sweetheart?” He coos, holding up Jonny’s favorite coffee mug. Jonny does so, of course, with a strained smile, and watches as Patrick sips languidly from the cup. He lets Patrick touch his arm, bat his eyelashes at him, steal his stuff.

Jonny just has to put up with it for a little while longer, and then he can keep his job and everything can go back to normal.

It isn’t until Patrick slides his hand around Jonny’s hip, right there in front of everyone, that makes Jonny think about calling the whole thing off. His face heats up immediately, and he’s sure he’s about to give everything away. Patrick leans in, lips puckered, probably hyper-aware of how Jonny’s heart is in his throat.

He presses his lips soft to Jonny’s cheek. “See you at home, babe,” he mumbles, quietly enough that Jonny doesn’t even know who he’s performing for.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and the twinkle in Patrick’s eye is completely unacceptable. When he pulls away, though, he can see the eyes peering at them from all around the office. So, maybe Patrick’s getting the hang of this after all. Jonny glares at the rest of the office until they stop staring.

~/~

“You live _here_?”

Jonny’s standing in Patrick’s foyer - he has a _foyer_ \- clenching the handle of his duffel bag in his hand. Patrick has his arms crossed over his chest, leaning smugly against the wall.

“Yes, Jonathan, I have a house.”

“In Chicago,” Jonny deadpans. “A huge one.”

“Yes, Jonathan,” Patrick says again. “It’s probably bigger than your condo, isn’t it?”

Jonny flushes with embarrassment and attempts to hold himself up high in the face of Patrick’s obvious wealth. He had expected Patrick to live in a shitty loft or have a million roommates. But instead, Jonny finds himself admiring the sleek, modern style of Patrick’s three-floor multi-million dollar townhouse that’s smack in the middle of River North

“This place must cost a fortune,” Jonny says before he thinks better of it. “I don’t pay you this much.”

Patrick just rolls his eyes. “Don’t I know it,” he mutters. “I don’t work for you for the money, Jonny,” he says a little more softly. “I want to write my book.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, kind of stupidly. “Okay. Where should I, um.”

Patrick claps Jonny on the shoulder and takes his bag from him. “Follow me, man. The guest bedroom is over this way.”

Jonny follows Patrick through the long hallways, admiring the crown-moulding and hardwood floors. It all looks so clean, treated, and Jonny recalls that he hasn’t had his condo cleaned in months.

“Here it is,” says Patrick, pushing open a door to an expansive room. It’s got a large queen bed with a fluffy comforter that looks like it’s never been used. The decorating is tasteful, minimal, and Jonny almost feels like he doesn’t belong here. “You can sleep here, but you should put your stuff in my bedroom.”

Jonny gives him a sour look.

“Hey,” Patrick murmurs, as if noticing Jonny’s hesitation. “I know you don’t want to be here, but it’s the best we can do on short notice, okay?”

“No,” Jonny argues, shaking his head gently. “No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s better than I expected.”

It’s rude, but Patrick laughs anyhow. “Put your stuff down, I’ll give you the tour.”

The first thing that Jonny notices is that Patrick has already put out some of Jonny’s things. There’s pictures of him up, as well as his coffee table in the living room. It took him basically no time at all to incorporate Jonny into his life.

“You work fast,” Jonny says. Patrick looks unimpressed.

“You kind of didn’t give me a choice,” Pat sniffs. “My friends are coming over tonight, so feel free to toss some of your shit around. Make it all… lived-in, or whatever.”

Jonny works his jaw as he follows Patrick into the kitchen. He has a buffet _and_ an island, naturally, and what looks like a wet bar in the dining room. “It looks fine,” he says dismissively. “All we have to do is convince them we’re in love.”

“Yeah, simple,” Pat drawls sarcastically, heading up to the wet bar to pour both him and Jonny a drink. “Let me just pull some affection out of thin air.”

Jonny huffs and takes the scotch glass when Patrick offers it to him. “You did it just fine at the office earlier.”

“Oh,” says Pat, a grin spreading across his face. “I didn’t realize you liked that so much, babe.”

Jonny flips him off, clinks their glasses, and downs the contents.

~/~

Patrick’s bedroom is… interesting.

It’s large, with a sizeable king in the middle. The walls are completely bare, though Jonny can see holes where nails used to be, so he must be in the middle of redecorating. His dresser is stacked with sports trophies and medals, but they’re haphazardly strewn around and not presented with any pride.  

By the time Patrick’s friends arrive, Jonny has unpacked his bag and hung up his suits, poked around though Patrick’s things in his bedroom, and meditated for a good thirty minutes on the floor. Patrick has been leaving him alone, but occasionally Jonny hears a clink of something in the kitchen from down the hallway.

If Jonny’s being honest with himself, he thinks as he evens out his breathing and attempts to clear his mind, this situation is mind-numbingly insane. Maybe moving back to Canada won’t be the end of the world. He lets out a long breath. Maybe he’s getting what he deserves for skirting the system as long as he did.

What’s so great about America, anyway? Jonny clenches and releases his fists. Jonny can find a job back in Winnipeg in no time. It won’t be as lucrative, probably, and he won’t have creative control, but it’s a job. He can find a new assistant. Jonny’s eyelids flutter as he tries to regain his focus.

He decides right then that the farce just isn’t worth it. He unfolds himself from his meditative position, stands up to stretch, and the doorbell rings. His heart spikes unfairly with nerves and he brushes himself off just as Patrick pokes his head in the room.

“You ready?” He asks, wriggling his eyebrows.

Jonny frowns. “Actually, Patrick, I don’t think-”

But before Jonny can finish, he hears the front door slam open and the tell-tale sound of men pouring into the house with enthusiasm. Patrick shrugs apologetically. “We should be grateful they bothered to ring the doorbell this time,” he says, just before getting tackled by a blur of tattoos and bared teeth.

“Segs, get off of me,” Patrick whines from somewhere on the floor. Jonny moves to the door with alarm, but is stopped fully in his tracks by another one of Patrick’s friends blocking the entryway. He’s broad and handsome, his friendly eyes crinkled at the corner with his smile. Jonny hesitates.

“Toews,” says the man, extending a warm hand which Jonny takes. “Sharp. Patrick Sharp.”

“I told you to stop introducing yourself like that,” Patrick grumbles from where he’s clambering to his feet. “That’s Sharpy, this is Tyler - or Segs - and Seabs is probably taking his shoes off at the front door like a gentleman.”

Jonny swallows thickly. “Your names…” he starts, but can’t find the end of the sentence. Sharpy squeezes his shoulder.

“We’re spies,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Those are our code-names.”

“Leave him alone,” Patrick says, finally shouldering his way past Sharpy into the room. “Are we just going to hang out in my bedroom, or should we hit the awesome chicken wings I just made?”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Segs, poking his head around into the room. He’s got a smile that just drips mischief and Jonny is positive he’ll have no idea how to interact with these people. “Kaner’s wings are the best.”

 _Kaner_? Jonny mouths, and Patrick just shrugs helplessly and follows Sharpy and Segs back out into the hallway. Jonny is left standing baffled, awkward, and unsure. After just a moment, Patrick comes back into the room and grabs his hands before Jonny can say otherwise.

“We play on a hockey team together,” he says, “that’s what the nicknames are. Come on, they don’t bite til they’re six beers in.”

Jonny feels relief as Patrick drags him into the dining room, their fingers woven together. Sharpy seems to spot them first and lets out a low whistle.

“Hand-holding already?” He says. “Kaner, you sly dog.”

“Shut up,” Patrick says haughtily, “don’t take it out on me just because your pregnant wife won’t bang you anymore.”

“I heard that!” A woman’s voice calls down from the hallway. Jonny startles; he hadn’t expected any women to be there. Her belly comes around the corner before she does, but Jonny first notices how striking her smile is and how sharp her glare is in Patrick’s direction. “And for the record, our sex life is very healthy.”

“Ew,” Segs offers as he leans in to kiss her cheek. Jonny shifts from one foot to the other until she catches sight of him.

“Oh, you must be Jonny,” she says, offering a small wave while her other hand rests on the curve of her stomach. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Patrick talks about you all the time.”

Jonny eyes Patrick, whose eyes are rolling bashfully while Segs socks him in the shoulder. Beside her, a taller, serious-looking man has his eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Not that much,” he argues, and Jonny can’t help but bristle a little. “I’m Brent.”

“Seabs,” Sharpy corrects, shouldering the other man. “And lay off, okay, they had to keep their illicit affair a secret because Patty is going to get his book published.”

“Intrigue,” Abby says.

“About time,” Segs says around a mouthful of what looks like chips and salsa. For the first time, Jonny notices the spread of food and drinks on the table and can’t help but be impressed. It’s decked out with buffalo wings, vegetables, cheese and crackers, and even a small plate of dessert bars. A few bottles of champagne are opened at the end next to a cooler stocked with light beer.  

“Uh, yeah,” Jonny says, remembering that he’s probably supposed to speak at some point. “We didn’t want people thinking Patrick slept his way to the top. He got by on pure talent.”

He gives Patrick a sickly sweet smile and gets something duller in return. Maybe it was a low blow. “Jonny certainly wouldn’t do anything unethical,” Patrick says, sliding up next to Jonny and putting an arm around his waist. “He’s the picture of integrity.”

“So,” Jonny says loudly to the group, “you play hockey?”

This sets off a flurry of information and conversation around the drinks and food, mostly about how good Patrick is on the ice. They’re all in some amateur league in the city, and apparently win pretty much every year. As Jonny listens to them brag and complain, the tension starts to ease just enough that he finds himself letting his guard down.

Patrick’s fingers are gentle on his hip, squeezing when he gets overly excited or if he wants Jonny’s attention. It would almost feel natural if it weren’t for the overarching bizarre nature of the entire situation. But Jonny is laughing at Sharpy’s jokes and the champagne is smooth and once they’ve all migrated to the living room, they’re all holding sweaty beers and smiles.

On the couch, Patrick has his arm around Jonny’s shoulders and he is just achingly good at this. He’s so casual with it all, the way he bumps Jonny’s arm or squeezes his hand. Jonny still doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do, so he’s trying not to stiffen whenever Patrick touches him.

It occurs to him that Patrick might be doing this on purpose - getting Jonny used to his affection so that they can pull it off in front of the immigration officers. The thought makes Jonny’s face heat with too many indescribable things - mostly shame. He should be pulling his weight in this endeavor.

“I used to play,” Jonny offers to the group after his fourth drink. “Hockey, I mean.”

For the first time, Patrick’s mask slips to surprise before he covers it back up again with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get him out on the ice with us,” he lies. “Show off his skills.”

Jonny shrugs one shoulder. “Now that everyone knows, I think I can accept that offer,” he says.

“Dude, awesome,” says Segs, clinking his beer with Seabs’. “We’ve been looking for an alternate, you any good?”

Jonny just shrugs again. “I have to use the bathroom,” he says, patting Patrick’s knee as he stands up. He thinks he just did a good thing, but the tension in Patrick’s shoulder is reading something different to him.

This type of thing – the dating, the meeting-the-family – it’s never been Jonny’s strong suit. He washes his face in the bathroom mirror and takes a good hard look at his reflection. He’d probably stand there and stare forever, but there’s a gentle knock on the door that startles him out of whatever reverie he’d been falling into.

He pulls the door open and finds Patrick, who crowds him back into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. “What-”

“What the hell was that?” Patrick hisses, eyes darting back over his shoulder. “What are we going to do when they want you out on the ice?”

Jonny stares at Patrick. “Um, I’ll go skate,” he says slowly.

Patrick throws his hands up with exasperation. “The one time you tell a decent lie and it’s going to get both of us caught,” he says sharply. “Do you have any idea how happy all those people are that I’ve finally found someone? It’s going to kill them.”

“Patrick, calm down,” Jonny says evenly. “I wasn’t lying, I can play.”

Patrick’s shoulders immediately drop. “Oh,” he says. “But you’ve never said anything.”

“I don’t have time anymore,” he explains. “But yeah, I played in a few national tournaments.”

“You - what?” Patrick stutters, swiping a hand down his face.

“I guess I still have some surprises for you,” Jonny says smugly, earning a glare from Patrick.

A loud knock comes pounding on the door and makes them both jump. “Stop whatever you’re doing in there, I gotta pee,” Segs whines from the other side of the door.

“There’s two other bathrooms in this house,” Patrick shouts back. “Fuck off.”

“Come back to the party, kids,” Abby says. “You have your whole lives to hook up in the bathroom.”

Jonny’s sure his face is flaming, but Patrick looks delighted. He musses up Jonny’s hair and before he can fix it, swings the door open. Jonny grumbles as he walks out to a chorus of wolf-whistles and hooting.

“It’s not his fault, hockey just turns Patrick on,” says Sharpy as they rejoin the group. Jonny allows himself to laugh until he catches Brent’s leveling gaze - it’s genuinely intimidating. Jonny sits down quietly on the couch and lets them chirp him, picking at the label of his beer bottle.

The conversation doesn’t stop, and neither does the drinking. Before Jonny knows it, it’s midnight and there are three drunk men and one very tired pregnant woman sitting with Patrick and Jonny in the living room. Jonny’s pretty sure he’s thoroughly convinced them that what he and Patrick have is something real - but Abby throws a wrench in everything.

“So, let’s see a kiss,” she says, leaning heavily against Sharpy’s shoulder. She waves her hand in front of herself. “C’mon. We’ve been waiting years for this.”

Patrick’s ears turn pink. “Give it a rest, Abby.”

Jonny bites his bottom lip. He’s starting to get what Patrick meant when he said how let down his friends would be if they found out about the lie. They seem so excited, so happy for him, and Jonny can’t be the one to ruin that.

“It’s okay,” he says, “live a little, Patrick.”

Patrick turns to him, surprised, but Jonny just pats his cheek. His eyes dart from Patrick’s mouth to his concerned eyes, like he’s worried, and Jonny forces the knot in his stomach to untie. They’ve got to sell this.

But Patrick just gives him a peck, a hard press of the lips and it’s over before Jonny knows it. He’s left blinking while Patrick pulls away.

“Lame,” says Sharpy. “I guess Pat’s not into PDA.”

“All right, losers,” Patrick says, standing up swiftly. Jonny just keeps sitting on the couch, hands folded in his lap. “Time for bed. We got skate in the morning.”

Tyler pokes at Patrick’s calf with his toe. “I’m too drunk to drive, can I crash in your guest room?”

Jonny and Patrick don’t look at each other, but they seem to share a similar moment of panic. “Sure, man,” Patrick says, voice wavering just the slightest bit. Jonny feels like glaring at him - can’t Tyler just take an Uber like a normal person? - but instead he just smiles politely.

“Sweet,” Tyler drawls, clambering to his feet and clapping Patrick on the shoulder as he walks past him. “You’re a true bro.”

The smile Patrick gives him in return is weak, but Jonny appreciates the effort.

The others all leave together not long after that. He gets a hug from Abby, a handshake from Sharpy, and a nod from Seabs. Jonny counts those as wins. Jonny really shouldn’t be surprised that Patrick has a good group of friends.

Guilt starts to set in as Jonny follows Patrick back to the master bedroom. These people are thrilled for Patrick, and it was all fake, all for nothing, all for Jonny. He shuffles quietly behind Patrick down the hallway, noting that Segs has kicked the guest room door shut. Jonny is very slightly affronted that he didn’t say good night.

Patrick closes the door to the bedroom behind him and gives Jonny an apprehensive look. “I, uh. Sorry about Tyler,” he says as he scratches the back of his head. “I know this isn’t, um, ideal.”

Jonny looks around the room. It’s big enough, carpeted floor. He could probably sleep okay curled up there if Patrick had extra blankets and pillows. “I could crash on the floor,” he offers, and Patrick makes a face.

“Dude, no. You spent all night appeasing my insane friends, the least I can do is let you take the bed.”

Jonny bites his lip. “It’s a king. We could both fit,” he says, toeing at the ground a little. When he looks up, Patrick is peering at him with an indecipherable expression.

“Are you sure?” He asks slowly, and his eyes seem to be unable to find Jonny’s. “I don’t want it to be weird, or whatever.”

He looks more vulnerable than Jonny has ever seen him, all the cockiness and joking that he usually embodies just vacant from his hesitant body language. Jonny’s heart does a weird thing and he finds himself unable to turn the guy down.

“Yeah,” Jonny says with a shrug. “Just keep your pants on.”

That gets Patrick to crack a smile, holding his hands up defensively in front of him. “All right, all right. Deal.”

Patrick wears long sweatpants to bed, and Jonny can’t help but wonder if that’s how he usually sleeps or if he’s doing it for Jonny’s benefit. The problem is Jonny doesn’t exactly have the same advantage.

“Sorry,” he mumbles awkwardly as he shucks off his clothes, leaving him in just the boxer briefs he usually sleeps in. “I thought I’d be sleeping alone.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, and if the room weren’t so dark Jonny would swear he sees his cheeks go pink. “It’s cool, man.”

Jonny crawls into Patrick’s bed and tucks himself under the plush covers, laying flat on his back at staring up at the ceiling fan slowly rotating above him. Patrick is breathing evenly next to him, curled up on his side with his back to Jonny, the curve of his hip still noticeable even under the blankets. Jonny closes his eyes and tries to let the stress and alcohol of the night set into his bones and help him drift off to sleep.

“Hey,” Patrick says into the darkness, bringing Jonny back into wakefulness. “You wanted to tell me something earlier, before everyone showed up. What was it?”

Jonny bites his bottom lip. He can feel the warmth coming from Patrick’s body, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulling Jonny into a pleasant heaviness. Suddenly, their whole plan doesn’t seem as bad anymore.

“It was nothing,” Jonny says, and scoots in further under the blankets.

He jolts awake sometime in the middle of the night, and the first thing he notices is that Patrick’s leg is pressed up tight against him. The second thing he notices is that he’s turned over onto his side, basically plastered up against Patrick’s body. His face is tucked into Pat’s neck and his crotch is resting firmly on Pat’s thigh. It’s awkward.

Jonny tries to scoot backward with some of his dignity intact, but Patrick rustles blearily anyway. “Huh?”

“Oh,” Jonny says, his voice all caught up with sleep, “I just.”

Patrick is smirking at him in the dark and Jonny just wants to hide under the blankets. “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Toews,” he murmurs, sleepily reaching out to dig his thumb into Jonny’s bare shoulder. “S’ok, if you want to.”

Patrick yawns big and long and Jonny figures he’s still half-asleep. “Shut up,” Jonny grumbles as he rubs his eye with the heel of his hand. “Go back to sleep.”

Patrick is laughing, now, quiet and earnest in the darkness. It’s making Jonny’s stomach squirm in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. He pinches his own thigh to snap himself out of it. Patrick’s hand is still resting on Jonny’s shoulder and it feels like a brand on his skin.

“It might be a good idea,” Patrick continues. “If Segs comes in. And to get you more used to me touching you.”

Jonny heaves out a sigh. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, and starts to roll over back toward Patrick, but Patrick just laughs again and shoves at his shoulder.

“No way,” he says lightly, “you’re the little spoon.”

Jonny almost argues, almost fights, but he just feels too tired to even bother. Wordlessly, he turns his back to Patrick and lets him slide an arm under his neck. Patrick gently rests his other arm around Jonny’s waist, his fingers pressing softly into the skin of his stomach.

“Isn’t that better?” Patrick murmurs, and Jonny can feel his breath there on the back of his neck. He manages to suppress a shiver.

“Whatever,” he says, and his voice only wavers a little bit.

It’s surprisingly easy to fall asleep with Patrick plastered against his back. His warmth is inviting, the pressure of his arms around Jonny just comfortable enough to feel natural. It isn’t long before he’s drifting off again, Pat’s thumb stroking his skin softly.

They wake up in the same position, the major difference being Patrick’s morning wood pressed up against Jonny’s ass. Really, Jonny should have expected as much.

The thing is, it doesn’t feel too bad. Patrick’s heartbeat is even and calm, thumping against Jonny’s back and ass, and it almost makes him want to fall back asleep. He lets himself doze for just a few more minutes before he realizes that this is absolutely not good.

He peels himself out of Patrick’s arms and quickly notices his own dick, which seems to have shown up for the party. Sighing, Jonny adjusts himself and crawls out of the bed, making his way to the master bathroom.

Patrick has been a constant in his life for the past few years, always there when Jonny needed him and even when he didn’t know he needed him. Jonny had never looked at him as anything other than another employee, but now his scent is all over Jonny’s skin and he hasn’t felt this rested in as long as he can remember.

He washes his face, brushes his teeth, and thinks about how he’s supposed to handle the next few days. His erection flags, thank goodness, but he knows he’s taking his sweet time in the bathroom just to avoid going back into the bedroom and dealing with whatever is happening with Patrick.

Eventually, he does, and Patrick is splayed out where Jonny was, still sleeping softly. Jonny watches for a little too long before deciding that the least he can do is make some fucking coffee. He pads down the long hallway to the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when he spots Tyler munching on toast at the island.

“Oh,” Jonny says, and Tyler whistles at him.

“Damn, Jonny,” he says slyly, “no need to get dressed on my account.”

Jonny flushes and just walks past him toward the coffee maker. “I like to be comfortable,” he argues, grabbing the coffee from the cupboard and reaching for the grinder. He’s really grateful that Patrick keeps all his stuff in intuitive spots, otherwise Tyler might catch on to him.

“Hey, I get it,” Segs says around a mouthful of food. “When Patrick and I were dating, it was basically pointless to wear clothes.”

Jonny pauses and looks over his shoulder. Something heavy sits low in his stomach. “You and Patrick dated?”

Tyler gives him a weird look. “I mean, yeah. For awhile. Didn’t you guys have the exes talk?”

Jonny just shrugs a shoulder, embarrassed by his response. “I guess I just didn’t make the connection,” he lies. Tyler is handsome, filled with energy, and has a sense of comfort around Patrick’s house that Jonny just hadn’t noticed the night before.

“He’s the one that got away,” Tyler says wistfully, then winks in Jonny’s direction. “I’m just glad he found someone, man.”

“Thanks,” Jonny says, turning back to keep working on the coffee. Nothing about this conversation is settling well with Jonny. He feels like he’s wedging his way into Patrick’s life, ruining all his relationships, letting everyone down. All so he can keep his fancy job. It would probably be better if he just fucked off to Canada and let Patrick live his life.

“You’re not harassing him, are you, Segs?” Patrick says as he comes around the corner. He walks right up to Jonny, curls a hand around his hip, and kisses his bare shoulder. “Morning.”

“I’m making coffee,” Jonny says, waving the beans in Patrick’s direction. He gets an amused, sleepy smile before Pat sets his eyes on Tyler.

“You’re such a mooch,” he says, and Tyler sticks his tongue out with all the mashed up bread. Patrick’s laugh is so genuine that Jonny needs to duck his head and go back to his task or his frown is going to give everything away.

“I’m taking off,” Segs says, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “Thanks for letting me crash, guys.”

“Anytime,” says Patrick, and Jonny just nods.

“Good to meet you,” he says as he pours water into the back of the coffeemaker. He adds a little wave over his shoulder so that Tyler won’t think he’s totally rude.

Once they’re alone again, Jonny shuffles nervously from one foot to the other while Patrick cleans up the crumbs Tyler left on the counter. He swallows. “So, um. You and Tyler, used to…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick says with a laugh. “It was a long time ago, we were both pretty young and just didn’t have our shit figured out, you know?”

Jonny worries his lower lip between his teeth. “What about now?”

“Now?” Patrick asks, looking taken aback. “Well, I’m kind of taken.” He holds up his hand and points to the band on his ring finger, and Jonny probably can’t be more miserable than he is in that moment.

~/~

After Jonny gets dressed and has too many cups of coffee, there’s a knock at the door. The immigration officer is making a ‘home visit,’ and Jonny honestly has no idea how it’s going to go. Patrick goes to open the door while Jonny sulks on the couch in the living room. He’s seconds away from pulling the plug on the whole thing.

“Jonny, this is Mr. Benn,” Patrick says, leading a man into the living room. He’s holding a clipboard and looks a bit hapless, but his handsome face reveals a touch of softness under everything. Jonny thinks they might have a chance with this guy.

“Jamie is fine,” says the agent, offering Jonny an awkward wave. “I just need to check out a few things, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jonny gestures for Jamie to take a seat as Patrick plunks down on the couch next to him, throwing a casual arm over Jonny’s shoulders. “Fire away, Jamie.”

Jamie flips to some page on his clipboard and leans forward, eyes passing over Patrick and Jonny. “When is the wedding?”

“Tuesday,” they say simultaneously.

“Why so soon?” Jamie asks, brow raised as he taps the sheet with his pen.

Patrick squeezes Jonny’s shoulder. “We’ve been together awhile, just decided to pull the trigger on it. It helps that I get to keep him around, too,” he adds, shining Jonny a dazzling smile.

Jonny’s heart aches with the lie. He just wishes it could be true for him.

Jamie makes a note on his clipboard and sort of endearingly starts to chew on the end of his pen. “You met at work?”

“Yeah, he’s my boss,” says Patrick. “One of the reasons we wanted to keep it under wraps.”

“Makes sense,” Jamie says with a small smile. “Jonathan, what do you think of Patrick’s family?”

“They live in Buffalo,” Jonny says smoothly, gently touching Patrick’s knee. “I’ve only ever talked to them on the phone. His sisters are pissed we’re not having a big wedding.”

If Patrick is surprised by the answer, he doesn’t show it. He just shrugs helplessly. “They’ll live,” he says with a smirk.

“And you, Patrick?”

“Jonny’s mom is teaching me French,” he says cheerfully. “His brother isn’t too fond of me, though.”

Jonny can’t help but laugh. David would think this entire situation was bizarre, but he and Patrick would hit it off like gangbusters.

“At least he returns your texts, now,” Jonny says. “It’s a step.”

“Okay,” Jamie hums, pushing himself up to his feet. “Let’s look around the house, and I’ll ask you a few more questions.”

The tour is peppered with Patrick and Jonny’s lies – things like, that’s Jonny’s hockey stick and Patrick won that stuffed penguin for Jonny at a carnival the year before. They bicker just enough – especially about Tyler staying over the night before – and Jamie’s suspicion level seems to drop more and more as they go.

“Well,” he says toward the end of the meeting. “I think the investigation is almost over for you two.”

Patrick huffs out a breath. “Finally. I mean, no offense, man, but it’s exhausting to keep proving to people that we actually like each other."

Jonny offers a pained smile and hip-checks Patrick lightly. “I can see why they’d wonder.”

“Hey,” Pat pouts.

Jamie looks between the two of them for a moment before making another mark on his clipboard. Jonny wishes desperately that he could see what he wrote.

“That’s it for today,” Jamie said. “I’ll see you two at the wedding. Courthouse?”

Jonny shifts his weight slightly away from Patrick. “We’re doing it here,” he says, and he and Patrick had absolutely not agreed on that beforehand. Jonny just can’t, after all this, drag Patrick down to the courthouse and have him sign his life away. They should at least be able to drink at the thing.

“Yup,” Patrick lies easily. “Small, but homey. We’ll see you then?”

Jamie nods and gives them a smile. “Okay, then,” he says, “nice meeting you guys. What’s on the docket for the day?”

“Hockey,” Patrick says, wriggling his eyebrows. “Been too long since we hit the ice.”

Jamie seems to brighten a little. “That sounds fun,” he says, and for the first time that day Jonny actually believes he means it. “See you on Tuesday.”

“We’re getting married here, huh,” Patrick asks with a sly grin after Jamie leaves. Jonny shrugs.

“It’ll be fun,” Jonny tries. Patrick peers at him for a moment, but appears to let it go.

“Okay, weirdo,” he says as he rolls his eyes. “I guess I’ll plan a party. But first: the rink.”

~/~

Hitting the ice with Patrick and his friends feels like breathing fresh air for the first time in years. They’re just fucking around for a little while, skating easy drills and getting warmed up. Even casually, Jonny is impressed with their skill levels. Patrick is fast, with soft hands, and Sharpy seems to know exactly where he’s going to put the puck every time. It’s fun, and Jonny could actually get used to this. But Sharpy, in his sage wisdom, offers up a game of 2-on-2.

“Come on,” he says, tapping his stick against the ice. “Me and Segs against you and Patrick.”

Tyler skates right into Patrick and Jonny’s stomach twists up. “You’re on,” he agrees. “C’mon, Pat, let’s show ‘em what we got.”

“You’re a different person out here,” Patrick says as they skate away to strategize. “How could I not know this about you?”

Jonny just skates a circle around Pat, slow and determined. “It’s from a past life,” he says. “Let’s focus on taking them out.”

As it turns out, Jonny and Pat play together pretty damn well. Once they figure out the other’s rhythm, it feels beyond natural to put the puck right on Patrick’s tape so he can feed the goal. Segs and Sharpy keep up okay, but once they break away it’s almost impossible to catch up with them.

Jonny finds himself just watching Patrick, probably a little too much. He stickhandles better than anyone Jonny has ever seen, and the focus in his eyes is definitely doing something to Jonny. Every time they celly, Patrick does it with his whole body, practically throwing himself into Jonny’s arms like they just won the Cup.

“Man, you two must play together more than you said,” Segs complains breathlessly. “You have a whole system down.”

“Can’t beat true love,” Patrick says, tapping Sharpy’s ass with his stick.

Jonny’s cheeks heat under his face-warmer.

Back in the locker room, he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground as Patrick undresses to shower. For whatever reason, every time he looks in Patrick’s direction he feels a little bit like he’s going to throw up. He isn’t given much of a choice, however, when Patrick comes up to him and thumps him on his chest.

He’s shirtless and damp and Jonny can’t look away. His hair is curling up around his ears, a big smile plastered across his face. “You were great out there. You should think about joining our league.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jonny mumbles, but Patrick just shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t think I should give you a choice,” Patrick says, all dazzling teeth and dimples. Jonny feels nauseous.

“You basically have to,” Sharpy blessedly interjects from the other side of the room, gathering Jonny’s attention. “We need another guy.”

“I don’t think Brent likes me much,” Jonny tries, but Sharpy just rolls his eyes.

“Once he sees you out there, he’ll want to suck your dick,” Segs chimes in. Patrick makes an affronted noise.

“He’d better not,” he says firmly, and pinches Jonny’s ass.

~/~

“Seriously, though,” Patrick says when they get back to the house. “Why don’t you tell anyone you’re basically a hockey prodigy?”

Jonny rolls his eyes as he shucks the bag of gear off his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” he explains. “Old life.”

“Not anymore,” Patrick says.

“I was thinking,” Jonny starts, and he doesn’t even know how he’s going to finish the sentence yet. But his mouth barrels on before his brain can stop him, and before he knows it, he’s saying, “about that kiss yesterday.”

Patrick’s face falls a little. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that. My friends can be persistent.”

“No, not that,” Jonny says, shaking his head. “I just think, um, maybe we should. Practice.”

Pat’s eyebrows shoot up as he turns to look at Jonny. “You want to practice kissing me?”

“I just mean,” Jonny says too loudly, “if we want to be convincing. You know, at the wedding.”

“Oh.” Patrick looks thoughtful. “I guess that makes sense, good thinking.”

He takes a few steps closer to Jonny and reaches up to wrap his fingers around the back of Jonny’s neck. Immediately, Jonny’s face flushes and he feels like a complete moron. The last thing that he wants to do here is actually develop feelings for Patrick, but he’s not doing himself any favours.

“Okay, here,” Pat says quietly, his breath warm on Jonny’s face.

This kiss is so much different from the one the night before. Patrick’s hand is heavy on Jonny’s neck and his other is flat on Jonny’s chest, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. Jonny’s eyes slip shut as Patrick presses in harder, his lips parting just enough to open the kiss up.

Jonny’s arms go around Patrick of their own volition. Their lips are moving now, slow and steady, and Jonny’s not sure if he’s ever going to breathe properly again. He’s so keenly aware of every shift in Patrick’s body, now pressed up against him – every gentle puff of air Patrick breathes out.

Just as Jonny is about to throw caution to the wind and touch Patrick’s tongue with his, Pat pulls back and steps away. Jonny feels cold all down his front, eyes half-lidded as his hands flex around nothing.

“I think that was better,” Patrick says, voice thin.

“Yeah,” Jonny agrees, leaning up against the door behind him.

“I just have to, um.” Pat jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Take a nap.”

“Okay,” Jonny says softly.

Patrick vaporizes from the room, leaving Jonny standing there at half-mast like a fucking idiot. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. Patrick is doing this for the book deal, he’s doing it because Jonny talked him into it, and Jonny continuously shoves him into these intimate situations that Patrick definitely hadn’t signed up for.

Jonny sits down heavily on the couch in the living room and tries to think about his shitty life choices. All that he can come up with, though, is that he’s definitely the bad guy in this story.

Patrick emerges sheepishly from the bedroom a few hours later, and Jonny realizes he hasn’t even moved from his spot the entire time. He gives Patrick an imploring look.

“You don’t have to do this,” he blurts out. Patrick looks taken aback. “I can - I’ll go back to Canada. We can call it off.”

“No way, bucko,” Patrick says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got me into this mess, you’re fucking marrying me. I’m not going to jail for you.”

Jonny sighs miserably and Patrick gingerly sits down on the couch next to him, leaving about a mile of space between them. “It was bound to get a little weird,” he says, and that’s definitely not what Jonny wants to hear. “We should cool it, huh.”

“Yeah,” Jonny says against every instinct he has. “At least while I’m staying here.”

“Okay,” Pat agrees, and if Jonny didn’t know any better he’d say he sounds as disappointed as Jonny feels.

~/~

Planning a party with Patrick goes surprisingly well.

They agree on a small guest list - Patrick’s friends, mostly, because Jonny doesn’t have any. They invite a few people from work just to pad out Jonny’s side of things, but neither of them are sure if anyone will even show up.

“Everyone hates me,” Jonny says with a shrug. Patrick laughs, and that makes it hurt a little bit less.

“You could try not being such a raging asshole at work,” he offers. Jonny flips him off.

“This asshole makes money for the company,” Jonny sniffs. He picks up a knick-knack off of Patrick’s shelf and toys with it. “You never did tell me what your family does to have all this money.”

“Sports equipment,” Patrick says simply. “That’s why I wrote my book about hockey. Grew up with it all around me.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, realizing that he’d forgotten to ask. “You already wrote it?”

Patrick nods as he leafs through a catalogue on centerpieces. “Do you want these weird ceramic things on the tables?” He asks, holding the magazine up for Jonny. He hopes that his expression says enough about that.

“I could read it,” Jonny offers. “Your book.”

“Nope,” says Pat, popping his ‘p.’ “Not until the deal goes through.”

“Fine,” Jonny grumbles as he sits down at the table next to Pat. “We should serve spinach puffs.”

“And champagne,” Patrick says. “None of that sweet shit, though. Brüt or die.”

~/~

“Jonny?”

It’s Monday and Sharpy is over helping set up for the ceremony the next day. Jonny slept in the guest room the night before - though he barely fell asleep. He was mostly tossing and turning, too hot and too cold, riddled with anxiety dreams. They’d made sure to tidy everything up to avoid potential suspicion, but Jonny was sitting in there at the vanity writing what he hoped would be believable vows.

“Sharpy,” he says as he places his pencil down. “What’s up?”

Sharpy sits down on the end of the bed and knits his fingers together, and, shit. Jonny is in for a real conversation. “Look. Patrick means a lot to us, man,” and Jonny panics. Maybe Sharpy figured them out and he was about to kick Jonny out on his ass. “And now you do, too.”

Jonny hopes the relief isn’t too obvious on his face. “You barely know me,” he says.

“But we know Patrick,” Sharpy continues. “And if he’s willing to hitch his ride to anyone, they’re probably pretty special.”

Jonny snorts. He hasn’t felt like that much of a stand-up guy over the past few days. “Thanks, man,” he says quietly.

Sharpy nods once, final. “Onto the good stuff,” Sharpy says, sticking his hand in his pocket and producing a small velvet box. He pulls back the hinge and reveals a set of sterling silver cufflinks, sparkling with expense, and Jonny bites his lip.

“These belonged to Patrick’s father,” Sharpy explains as Jonny tries his best to not look at them. “He gave them to me when I married Abby. Now, I think it’s time they returned to their rightful family.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, finally taking the box from Sharpy’s outstretched hands. “I just - I don’t know. Why don’t you give them to Patrick?”

Sharpy clicks his tongue as he shakes his head. “Sorry, buddy. You can’t turn my gift down.”

Jonny worries at his bottom lip. He can’t imagine how Patrick will react when he sees Jonny wearing his family’s cufflinks, but he knows it can’t be good. “I, um. Thank you, Sharpy.”

“I should have known you’d get all teary-eyed about this,” Sharpy retorts. Jonny opens his mouth to protest because his eyes are bone-dry, but Sharpy just smiles, half-warm and half-teasing. “Considering you surprised us all with the wedding, I’m using this as our get-out-of-wedding-present card, anyway.”

Jonny laughs. Patrick is lucky to have someone like Sharpy. “Fine by me.”

~/~

On Monday evening, Jonny paces. Patrick’s house is decked out with decorations, chairs set up in the massive living room for those who are coming to witness what Jonny has started to call ‘the abomination’ in his head. The caterers are arriving in the morning to set up, so Jonny and Patrick spent the evening labeling the drawers in the kitchen so they’d know where to find things if they needed to.

It had been _fun._ Jonny stuck a post-it to Patrick’s back that said ‘loser,’ and when Patrick found out he thunked a colander over Jonny’s head. They were laughing.

So, Jonny is pacing. Marrying someone he doesn’t like sounded like a piece of cake, but marrying Patrick now that he’s gotten to know him puts a pit in his stomach. It isn’t right, but Jonny has no choice at this point.

“Would you stop?” Patrick complains from the bed. He’s perched up against the headboard and reading some article about hockey analytics on his laptop. “You’re going to wear right through the floorboards.”

“Sorry,” Jonny mumbles sheepishly. “Just nervous, I guess.”

“Aw,” Patrick coos, sliding out of the bed and moving right up into Jonny’s space. “Got butterflies for the big day? Don’t worry, you’ll be the prettiest girl there.”

He’s all pressed up against Jonny’s side, his grin practically pressed into the side of Jonny’s neck. It’s totally unacceptable. “Fuck off,” Jonny grumbles as he shoves a laughing Patrick away from him. “I just don’t want to get caught.”

Patrick’s smile falters and returns so quickly that Jonny questions whether it was ever really there. “Don’t worry,” Patrick says coolly, and when he steps closer to Jonny, he’s got sympathy all over his face. “It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks again for doing this,” Jonny blurts out, “or, uh. For the first time. I can’t remember if I said thank you.”

Patrick chuckles softly and rests his hand on Jonny’s shoulder. It’s such a warm, sweet gesture that Jonny wants to shove him away again. “I can think of worse people to be fake-married to.”

Jonny is taken aback by the compliment. There’s a moment where Jonny thinks, yeah, he could probably kiss Patrick again. It’s late in the night, the soft glow from the dim lamps casting soft shadows across Patrick’s face. Jonny could thumb at the line of his dimples and touch the small of his back to pull him flush.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he rolls his eyes and steps far out of Patrick’s vicinity. “Yeah, okay, whatever,” he says, and pretends not to notice the way Patrick looks kind of put out. “Get your beauty sleep.”

“Sorry about the guest room,” Patrick sighs as he crawls back into the bed. “There just wasn’t any place else to store all that furniture we moved.”

“It’s fine,” says Jonny, easing into the bed next to Pat. Sleeping next to Patrick isn’t a complete hardship; Jonny has almost gotten used to it. He turns on his side and Patrick wastes no time resting a hand across his hip, his body a solid warmth behind Jonny. Sleep comes more easily than he expected.

~/~

When Jonny wakes up, Patrick is gone. He isn’t given long to worry about it, though, because seconds after he blinks his eyes open, Sharpy and Segs are pouring into the room and snatching him out of bed.

“Rise and shine, To-es,” Sharpy says cheerfully.

“What?” Jonny mumbles, his voice still scratchy from sleep. “Where’s Patrick?”

“You can’t see the groom until the wedding, dummy,” Tyler says. “That’s what Sharpy and I are for.”

“Liaisons,” Sharpy says with a short nod.

Panic starts to pound through Jonny’s body. Not being able to talk to Patrick before the ceremony feels so risky, especially with Jamie coming to witness. Jonny finds himself desperately wanting to immediately break that rule.

“I don’t know,” says Jonny carefully as Segs shoves clothes into his arms. “We still have some logistics to figure out for the ceremony.”

Sharpy rolled his eyes. “You just want to make out with him.”

Jonny pouts openly while Segs and Sharpy manhandle him through a morning routine. He can’t help but wonder how Patrick is doing, if he’s feeling nervous or having second thoughts or wants to tell Jonny anything.

It isn’t long before Jonny’s shrugging on a tuxedo coat and fastening on the cufflinks Sharpy had gifted him with. Patrick still doesn’t know about that; Jonny figured it would be better to keep it a secret until after the ceremony when he could return them. Really, he just worries Patrick would insist he keep them.

Jonny looks at himself in the full-length mirror. He’s never envisioned himself in this position - decked out in a tuxedo, cheeks pink with anxiety, clutching his hand-written vows like his life depends on it. What shocks him the most is how it doesn’t look wrong on him.

Tyler knocks on the door to the bedroom and startles him out of his reverie. “That immigration officer dude is here to see you,” he calls through the door. “Are you decent?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jonny calls back, tugging on his sleeves as Tyler creaks the door open.

Jamie gives him a small wave, his signature clipboard tucked up under his arm. “Thanks, Tyler,” he says over his shoulder, and Jonny swears Tyler trips over himself a little bit as he tries to leave. “Hi, Jonathan.”

Jonny sticks his hand out for a handshake, which Jamie accepts warmly. “Jamie, good to see you. How does everything look out there? I’m locked in here until the ceremony.”

Jamie smirks. “Patrick said the same thing,” he says. Jonny’s heart thumps hard at the mention of Patrick’s name, and he has to bite down on the slew of questions that come to mind.

“Great minds,” Jonny says with a weak smile. Jamie nods and takes his pen out of his pocket.

“Look, Jonathan,” he starts slowly, with a short shake of his head, and Jonny figures they’ve been caught somehow. His blood runs cold for a minute, but Jamie pushes on. “This is all a, y’know, formality,” he says, waving his hand in the air. “It’s obvious to me that you and Patrick have something special.”

Jonny hopes his ears haven’t turned pink.

“And, look, the thing is,” says Jamie, scratching the back of his head with his pen, “this stuff is rare, you know? Just,” he sighs, “don’t take it for granted, okay?”

Jonny blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

Jamie holds his hands up defensively and accidentally drops his pen, scoops down to pick it up, fumbles, and drops it again. Jonny watches him straighten up impatiently. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean - uh, I’m just gonna go have some of those spinach puffs.”

“Okay,” Jonny drawls suspiciously, peering at Jamie as he hurriedly rushes from the room. Alone, Jonny stands helplessly as Jamie’s words swim around in his head.

Jonny starts to really think about his future. He imagines that he and Patrick will have to stage a break-up, get divorced. Patrick’s friends will be heartbroken on his behalf. They might even doubt all of Patrick’s future relationship choices. He’llfeel the ripple effect of this dumb stunt for the rest of his life.

This ‘something special’ that Jamie thinks he sees, it’s all just proof that Jonny is the callous, uptight person that Patrick had always thought he was.

“I can’t do this,” says Jonny, aloud.

He spies Jamie’s pen sitting there on the carpet, and he plucks it up.

Jonny’s never really been one for doing the “right” thing, not usually. He sits down at Patrick’s desk and pulls his crumpled vows out of his pocket, taking a moment to scribble out everything he wrote.

He watches the words he’d fabricated disappear under the ink; his false professions of love. How making Patrick smile feels like the biggest achievement. How the best part of Jonny’s day is that quiet moment they have just before bed, when they’re not talking but just sharing space. How he wouldn’t trade the years of bickering for anything, because it led them both to this moment.

And now, the page is just a jumble of scratched out words and blobs of ink. Patrick doesn’t need to read any of it, anyway. What he needs to read is what Jonny will write on the back.

It doesn’t take him long to write the note. He’s got nothing left to lose at this point - and the least he can do is treat Patrick with a little bit of honesty before he pulls the rug out from under everyone.

He hesitates on how to sign it. He settles on a simple J. He thinks, after this, Patrick will never want to see his name again anyway.

Still, he feels unsettled. He realizes that he’s rubbing one of the cufflinks absentmindedly, and he quickly deposits them onto the table beside the note. The knot in his stomach only unclenches the smallest amount, but there’s nothing else he can do about it.

His Uber shows up less than five minutes later, and he darts to it without anyone stopping him. Both of these things seem to be a sign that he’s finally making the right choice.

Jonny watches the road fly by outside of the car as he heads to his office, ready to start packing. He’s going back to Canada.

~/~

Jonny’s office is surprisingly easy to pack up. He’s got open boxes all around the room, all half-filled with books and some old files. He remembers, eventually, that most of his stuff is stacked up in Patrick’s office, to the point where the door doesn’t even open all the way.

Jonny sheepishly picks at the cardboard corner of one of the boxes and vaguely attempts to work up the nerve to break into Patrick’s office to retrieve his things. He’ll need some of it back in Canada, especially if he wants to start up his own publishing firm, which is probably what he’ll have to end up doing.

Winnipeg is nice this time of year, anyway, Jonny lies to himself.

He can picture the scene back at Patrick’s house, all confusion and panic and Patrick having to explain things. He figures Jamie’s already on his way to Jonny’s condo to detain him - he just hopes he has enough time to pack up before his papers get served. He’s pretty sure he never saw a frown on Sharpy’s face, but there it would be, filled with the sympathy Patrick deserves. He wonders if Tyler will be there to comfort Patrick, after all this.

Jonny knows this is the right thing to - to get out of Patrick’s way, to let him live without Jonny constantly getting in his way anymore.

So, naturally, when he confidently walks out of his office to go get the rest of his things, he immediately crashes into Patrick.

“Whoa, fuck,” Patrick says, his hands going to Jonny’s shoulders to steady him.

He’s not wearing his coat, just dressed in a white button-up and suspenders. His temples are a little damp, like he ran all the way up the stairs or something. Jonny’s mouth goes desert dry as he reels back out of Patrick’s touch.

“What are you - how did you find me,” Jonny asks miserably. He can’t look Patrick in the eye, not after what he did. He does hear Patrick’s responding scoff.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” Patrick says pointedly. “And this,” he shoves the note Jonny left right into his chest, “is total bullshit.”

“I know,” Jonny says softly, shoulders slumped. “I’m just sorry I put you through any of this, Patrick.”

But Patrick is rolling his eyes again as he crosses his arms tight over his chest. “Not that, dumbass,” he says with exasperation. “What you said in your note is the bullshit, Jonny. You don’t mean any of this.”

Jonny furrows his brow; he doesn’t understand what the fuck Patrick is talking about. “I mean it,” he says. “Like I said, I don’t want to get in the way of your life anymore.”

“See? That’s the bullshit,” Patrick says. “You love making me miserable. I love making _you_ miserable.”

A sound kind of like a laugh mixed with a sob erupts from Jonny’s chest. “What are you talking about?”

Patrick steps up closer to him. “Look, Jonny. I don’t care about the book deal,” he says, placing his hands on Jonny’s chest. “I don’t care about the stupid lie anymore. I just want to keep hanging out with you.”

“I’m going to Canada,” Jonny mumbles. “I’m getting deported.”

“No, you’re not,” Patrick says. “We’re getting married, so you can stay here, and we can date.”

Jonny shakes his head slightly. “You want to date me?”

“Yes, you moron,” Patrick says, sliding his hands up Jonny’s chest to cup his cheeks. “I don’t spoon every douchebag that sleeps in my bed.”

“But,” says Jonny as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “What about-”

“God,” Patrick says loudly, “you never shut up when you’re supposed to, do you? Just kiss me.”

Jonny does. He leans down as Patrick leans up and the vice that has been squeezing Jonny’s chest for the last few days finally, blessedly, lessens. He lets out a breath that Patrick swallows and before he knows it, he’s wrapped Patrick up in his arms and they’re stumbling back into Jonny’s office.

Pat’s tongue is so soft and yielding and his hands roam from Jonny’s face to his back and back up to his shoulders. Jonny’s skin is tingling wherever Pat’s fingertips brush, forcing him to resist full body shivers. He allows a few to slip out, but Patrick only smiles against his mouth and deepens the kiss further.

Somehow, Jonny ends up sitting on his empty desk with Patrick fitted between his legs. The intensity keeps ebbing and flowing, easing into gentle, slow kisses before amping all the way back up to Jonny being ready to start shedding clothes.

They’re at that point, with Patrick’s hands up the back of Jonny’s shirt and Jonny squeezing Patrick’s ass, when Pat jerks back. Jonny’s chest heaves with pants, his skin fiery with the need to drag Patrick back against him.

“Jonny,” Pat laughs as he thumbs across Jonny’s cheek, “c’mon. We have to get back to the ceremony.”

“Don’t want to,” Jonny says simply, diving in to leave kisses along the curve of Patrick’s neck. Pat allows it for a moment before he pushes Jonny back with a little more force. Jonny shakes his head. “You really do love making me miserable.”

“It’s a gift,” Pat says, patting Jonny on the chest as they untangle from each other.

Jonny hesitates awkwardly as he shrugs his jacket back on. “I, ah,” he starts, and Patrick turns to look at him with his eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry I left without talking to you.”

“Good,” says Patrick.

“Shut up,” Jonny snips. “Is everyone else - are they pissed?”

Patrick runs a hand through his messy hair; Jonny had mussed it and it was sort of sticking out everywhere. “Yeah, kinda,” he admits quietly. “But they’ll get over it, okay? It might take you awhile to get back on Seabs’ good side, though.”

“‘Back?’” Jonny says incredulously. “That guy has hated me since day one.”

Patrick laughs, _hard_ , actually doubles over with the effort of it. Jonny would be irritated if it weren’t so fun to watch. “That’s just him, man,” Patrick explains, and Jonny waves him off.

“Whatever, still not looking forward to seeing his bad side.”

“Sharpy and Segs will protect you.” They walk out to the elevator, just leaving all of Jonny’s stuff half-packed in his office. Once Patrick pushes the down button, he gives Jonny an imploring look. “Hey, we got this,” he said, elbowing Jonny in the ribs.

“What about Jamie?” Jonny asks as the elevator door opens.

“Dude, Segs has turned his flirt up to eleven with that guy,” Patrick says with a smirk. “I’d be surprised if Jamie would notice if our officiant was naked.”

The elevator doors open with a ding, and for for a brief moment, Jonny considers just pulling Patrick back into his arms and making out in the elevator instead of going all the way back to Patrick’s house. Instead, he just sighs.

“I thought you and Tyler might, uh,” he started awkwardly, “y’know. Start something.”

Patrick stares at him like he grew a third head. “You really are dumb without me running every minute of your life, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know!” Jonny throws his arms up helplessly. “You have a past. I just… thought I was getting in the way.”

“You can cockblock me any day,” Patrick says with a smirk. “Look, stop worrying about all of that, okay? Our original plan is still on, except now we’re going to talk to each other. And fuck, probably.”

“Jesus,” Jonny mumbles, cheeks heating up against his will. Patrick just grins at him.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Pat says suddenly, sticking his hand in his pocket. He pulls out the two silver cufflinks and takes Jonny’s hand, folding them into his palm. “You forgot these.”

Jonny’s chest goes tight, but in a good way – a completely opposite way than how he’d felt all week. He clutches onto the cufflinks in one hand and reaches out to cup Patrick’s cheek with the other. He kisses him just once, gentle and lingering, and wonders why it took him so long to realize how much he needs him.

~/~

“I still can’t believe how easy that was,” Jonny’ muses a week after the ceremony. Patrick is laying on his chest, nose tucked right into his neck, and Jonny isn’t even sure if he’s awake. They’re both stretched out on Patrick’s couch, a thin sheet pulled up over their bodies. Their matching wedding bands glimmer in the dim lighting.

“Easy?” Patrick replies, muffled, “nothing about you is easy.”

Jonny pinches Patrick’s shoulder. “I just mean,” he says sharply, “that the wedding went well.”

Patrick huffs out a breath against Jonny’s bare skin, then rests his chin on Jonny’s chest so he can look at him. “Uh, you pulled a runaway bride, my parents flew in to surprise us and got detained at the airport, Segs and Jamie got caught making out in the pantry, and Abby gave Sharpy a black eye.”

Jonny purses his lips. “Yeah, but all the stuff afterward was good.”

Patrick’s laugh reverberates through Jonny’s whole body. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, kissing the underside of Jonny’s chin. “I guess sometimes things do work out like they do in the movies.”

“I gotta get home soon,” Jonny says regretfully. “But we’re still on for the movie tomorrow, yeah?”

“Hm,” says Patrick, “nah, let’s go Friday. I have to work on my book tomorrow.”

Jonny rolls his eyes. “Who’s going to manage my life now that you’re managing your own?” He complains.

“You could give it a shot,” Patrick suggests. Jonny shoves him until he tangles in the sheet and goes toppling to the floor.

“Ow, asshole,” Patrick whines, righting himself enough to sock Jonny on the thigh. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go over your schedule for tomorrow.

Jonny sighs and drags Patrick back up onto the couch. “All right. You’re the boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Join me on tumblr at [hatrickane](http://hatrickane.tumblr.com)!


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